


Things Worth Dying For

by startwithsparks



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, Fingerfucking, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Winter War, mere months after the start of WWII, seasoned sniper Jaqen H'ghar finds himself with a new partner, and a new reason for fighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Worth Dying For

"Steady now..." he murmured, his lips buried against her fur-lined hood to keep the steam of his breath from revealing their cover. He was pressed tight to her left side, the bulk of his body breaking the occasional gust of winter wind that swirled flurries of fallen snow around them. It was more important to him that she stay warm and her hands remain steady than it was for him to avoid the chill that crept up the back of his coat from time to time. He had seen his share of battles and camped in enough drifts of snow that he could endure.

They called him _Wróbel_ , the Sparrow, for his vigilance, resourcefulness, and ability to hide in plain sight. She was his lean winter wolf, as fierce as any predator, but patient enough to stalk her prey for miles until he was most vulnerable. She'd barely been accepted to the program, because of her age and how small she was. No one thought that she had the fortitude necessary for such a demanding task. It seemed the more people questioned her abilities, the more determined she was to prove to them that she could do anything they asked of her. And she was tested, hard, but she made it through training by tooth and claw and found her way to his side despite the doubts. 

The bitter chill was keeping the Soviet encampment bundled down tight and their target hadn't been seen outside the shelter of his tent once since they set up. Desperation could make perfectly reasonable men do unreasonable things, and the cold seeping into their bones didn't allay the urge to retreat back to camp, but he never heard the girl so much as murmur a complaint in all the time they laid there, waiting, hoping that the next moment would bring relief from their vigil. For his part, Jaqen did whatever necessary to keep her blood pumping warm and her patience firm.

He was sure there was some article that strongly discouraged what they did with one another while they laid patiently in wait, but it seemed futile to ignore the draw between them. Others may have the resolve necessary to deny those impulses, but some passions needed to be indulged in order to preserve the temperance of others. They were each other's only company, and had been since they were assigned to this team, but they could risk very little when it came to bringing their bodies together. He found ways to please her, ways that didn't require her to take her eye off their objective. 

Jaqen's face buried deeper against her hood, the rough beard growing across his cheeks scratching against the scarf she kept wound across her mouth. He could feel her smile beneath the thick material and her back arched languidly next to him. 

He barely turned his gaze away from his scope, part of his attention always lingering on the crosshairs, even as he brought his hand up to his mouth and clenched his teeth around a finger of his glove. He jerked his hand back carefully, the movement concealed by tall bank of snow in front of them and the spidery shrubs and evergreen brushes they had bunkered down behind. He dropped his glove to the ground in front of him, the chill already working into his fingertips, and slowly brought his hand towards her body. His fingers slipped up the back of her coat, gliding between fur and wool until he found the smooth expanse of her lower back. He danced his fingernails along her skin, then steadily lower, under the waist of her trousers. 

Jaqen could feel the goosebumps gradually prickling her skin, across the flesh of her backside and her thighs. He lowered his head so that the steam of his breath puffed down into the snow in front of him, the cold radiating towards his face as the heat of her skin worked its way up his fingertips. As he pressed further between her thighs, she dug her knees into the snow and rolled her hips towards his hand, inviting him further inward. Jaqen took his time, every move he made as deliberate and slow as the steps he took through the cover. But he also did it for his own pleasure, basking in the feel of what little flesh was available to his greedy hands. When he'd drank up all he dared allow himself, he dragged his hand further down, seeking the warmth between her thighs. 

He heard her suck in a soft breath as his fingers slipped into place. As she lowered her head to hide the steam escaping her lips, he put his eye back to his scope, always conscious that one of them had their gaze focused on the camp. But he could watch and touch at the same time, he'd done it often enough, giving her both a break from the strain of constant vigilance and a chance to burn the tension from her restless limbs. Knowing that he was the one who could break her watch placed a smug grin on his lips; nothing else ever caused her to falter. He fell into a rhythm easily enough, his attention torn between feeling the pace of her breath and watching for any sign of movement from the camp below. She kept so quiet and so still that that the only way he had to judge how she fared next to him was the drag of her breathing and pulse of blood through her body.

He felt her body heave with each stifled breath, enough that he could feel the tension in her muscles, but not so much that it betrayed their position. Her thighs tensed around his hand, hips rolling slowly against his palm and fingertips. Gradually, as she worked hard to keep her body as still as possible, he felt her muscles tighten. 

A faint movement from the corner of his gaze almost had him withdrawing his hand, but the flash had only briefly startled him. His fingers continued their eager movements while he peered down on the camp. The flap of a tent swished open, smoke unfurling into the landscape of gray and white, and a man stepped out with a pipe clenched tightly between his lips. He bore the insignia of a communications officer. 

"Arya," he murmured, and she jerked her head up, breath baited. 

She pressed her eye to the scope and pressed her body to his hand, adjusting the position of her rifle two clicks to the left. She bit down on her lip, the tension in her body rippling up from her thighs to her back, her shoulders, down her arms, and to her hands. Her fingers clenched, the shot cracked in the still air, and Jaqen watched as the round sliced through one side of the man's head and out the other like a warm knife through butter. 

Arya exhaled with her face buried in the snow, her body trembling around his fingers. He pulled his hand back, grabbed his stand with one hand and hers with the other, and slipped back into the heavy brush before the rest of the camp rallied to see what had happened. They only had a few minutes before the Soviets would start searching the area for them, and by that time they would be well on their way to their own lines, and a brief reprieve from having to find stolen moments in the snow to feel the warmth of one another's bodies.


End file.
